“That, at least,” grumbled the Harrow, “is a form of sooth. Prepare a feast within a hundred leagues of the Ardent, and you will find him at table ere the first course is presented.”

In response, the Ardent waggled his finger, now clearly cautioning the Harrow to silence—and clearly expecting the Harrow to comply.

“Lady,” he added, “you may regard me as a friend.” Each word was a dollop of cream. “Doubtless there are those who deem that the Insequent know nothing of friendship. And doubtless they have cause for their conviction. You, however, will think otherwise. You have known the discretion and regard of the Theomach, he whom the Harrow seeks to displace as the greatest of our kind. Also you have been served as both friend and ally by the Mahdoubt. You will grant me leave to demonstrate that my nature is as benignant as hers, though her wisdom and fortitude elude me.”

Liand put his hand on Linden’s arm, but did not ask for her attention. Rather he seemed to touch her to remind himself that he and she, at least, remained solid; that they had not wandered inadvertently into the illimitable possibilities of dreams—

“Here is a wonder indeed,” exclaimed Rime Coldspray softly. “Had we any prospect of continued life, we would hear such tales gladly wheresoever we sailed—aye, and count ourselves fortunate to do so.”

“Enough!” demanded the Harrow darkly. “Name your desires and depart, fatuous one. You cannot be madman enough to intend interference. Therefore your presence serves no purpose, and your words waste the hearing of them.”

The Ardent did not deign to reply. Instead he flapped his upraised hand, and at once a long streamer extended itself from his habiliments toward the Harrow. The ribband had a niveous color as it fluttered away from the Ardent, but wafting it modulated to match the Harrow’s dun-and-loam hues. Although it remained anchored among the rest of the Ardent’s coverings, it lengthened quickly. And when it reached the Harrow, it began to wind around his head, floating nearer and nearer until it looked like it would soon cover and seal his face; his eyes or his mouth.

Reflexively Linden held her breath. Was it possible? Could the Ardent suffocate the Harrow? With a strip of cloth?

They were both men, as human as she was. Only their arcane studies gave them theurgy.

Liand’s fingers dug into her arm. The Giants watched open-mouthed, as if they were torn between amusement and alarm.

For a moment, the Harrow slapped at the ribband furiously. But it evaded him, as illusive as a swarm of gnats. Abruptly he stopped swatting, dropped his hands to his doublet. His fingers began forming strange shapes on the ornaments of his garment.